


The Famous Mr Crowley

by Mnemosign26



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is fine with this, Canon Compliant, Crowley is a mob boss, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), no fires here though!, some mafia guys come to tell them the shop is flammable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnemosign26/pseuds/Mnemosign26
Summary: “So what exactly are you famous for, my dear?” Aziraphale turned to face Crowley in his chair at the bookshop.“Ngk,” Crowley replied, waving a hand vaguely.“Hopefully nothing too bad,” Aziraphale pressed. He was intrigued by the Germans’ comments in the church, before the bombing. To his knowledge, Crowley, like Aziraphale, had always tried to fly under the radar, so to speak. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if the general human population eagerly followed the life of a man - or at least a man-shaped being - who never seemed to die.“Of course it’s bad, I’m a demon, remember?” Crowley rolled his eyes - or rather, showed that he was rolling his eyes behind his glasses by moving his entire head.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 102





	The Famous Mr Crowley

“So what exactly are you _famous_ for, my dear?” Aziraphale turned to face Crowley in his chair at the bookshop.

“Ngk,” Crowley replied, waving a hand vaguely. 

“Hopefully nothing too bad,” Aziraphale pressed. He was intrigued by the Germans’ comments in the church, before the bombing. To his knowledge, Crowley, like Aziraphale, had always tried to fly under the radar, so to speak. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if the general human population eagerly followed the life of a man - or at least a man-shaped being - who never seemed to die. 

“Of course it’s bad, I’m a demon, remember?” Crowley rolled his eyes - or rather, showed that he was rolling his eyes behind his glasses by moving his entire head.

“Yes, but perhaps it is… not quite as bad as other demons would do?” Aziraphale finished diplomatically, after a hesitation. He did not want to have another argument with his best friend, especially after the last one. 

“Shaddup, angel,” Crowley growled. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to make another comment - and stopped. The loud, high _ding_ of the bookshop’s doorbell rang out into the backroom. 

“I’ll get it,” Crowley forced himself off the chair with a groan.

Amongst the bookshelves in the main shop, two large, bulky men inspected the more valuable pieces. Crowley hissed quietly. They had no right to disrespect his angel’s books. 

“So many books, all flammable,” the slightly taller, blonde one sighed.

“It’s a wonder this place hasn’t burnt yet,” the other glanced meaningfully at his friend, “y’know, Second Great Fire and everything…”

“Must be a miracle,” a low voice drawled from the shadows.

They turned to see a silhouette leaning, snakelike, against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a smirk on his lips, and dark glasses covering his eyes. 

The pair looked, intimidated, at each other. Whoever this man was, and his tone implied he was someone important, they were not prepared for him. They were prepared for the kind of nancy old man who ran a bookshop. 

“Are you the owner of this bookshop?” The shorter one asked, in a somewhat smaller voice than he had intended.

Crowley’s grin widened. “Unless my corporation has changed since last time I looked in a mirror, I’m pretty sure I don’t look like I run a bookshop.”

The thugs exchanged glances. He was either a lunatic, or speaking in a code, and they didn’t like that one bit. 

Eventually, the braver man (who was the tall one) found the courage to say “Could you point us in the direction of the owner, then?”

“Sure,” Crowley replied easily, ducking his head back through the doorway he was currently using as a lounge. “Visitors for you, angel,” he called. 

“At this time of night? Did I forget to close the shop aga - oh.” 

A blonde, nice looking man dressed in light coloured clothes that looked as though they were from about a hundred years ago walked past the shadow. His expression, while angry and frustrated, seemed out of place, appearing on the man to be quite different to what the thugs imagined his normal facial expressions would be. 

And they were right. 

“What do you two gentlemen want?” Aziraphale forced patience into his voice.

“I believe they were just remarking on how unfortunately flammable this place is, angel.” Crowley’s eyes swung to Aziraphale. “You want me to look after it?”

Aziraphale briefly wondered whether he meant the men in his bookshop, or the fact that his pride and joy could very easily catch on fire, before shaking his head with a smile at Crowley. “I can take care of this, Crowley.”

“Crowley? As in, _the_ Anthony J. Crowley?” The intruders fought to keep the awe and intimidation from showing. 

“Really, my dear, you simply _must_ tell me why everybody knows you!” ‘Aziraphale turned to the demon, expectantly.

“‘S nothin’,” Crowley mumbled, “just a little underworld gang I’m running.”

Aziraphale was shocked, and a touch disappointed in his friend. “A what?” 

“Y’know,” Crowley said, distractedly, running a hand through his hair, “a crime syndicate. The kind of thing my people would do.”

“You’re killing people in order to get your way?”

The demon sighed. “No, angel, no-one’s dying. Or even getting hurt, really. Just, I dunno, learning a lesson, or whatever.” 

Aziraphale beamed. “Why, Crowley, you really are just a -”

“Nuh,” Crowley silenced him, holding up a hand, “don’t say it, angel. And, don’t forget,” he gestured ridiculously at the humans in the bookshop, “people to deal with.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale bit his lip. “Yes. Well.”   
  
The thugs watched the men’s gazes swing towards them. “And what exactly are you gonna do to us?” The tall one said, trying to sound intimidating and failing miserably. 

Although the thugs never remembered what happened after this, they never could find it within themselves to enter the bookshop again, and instead ended up leaving the organised crime world forever - miraculously, with no-one looking for them.

Aziraphale and Crowley, however, remembered. And if they look at each other several times in the future, smiling together as they reminisce, then far be it from anyone who has ever wanted to hurt the bookshop, or from anyone who had anything to do with Crowley’s gang, to try and stop them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and let me know if you want to see more adventures of Crowley the mob boss and his... well, something, Aziraphale!


End file.
